


The Red Herring

by Millyna



Category: The Selection Series - Kiera Cass
Genre: F/M, M/M, SYOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15939107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millyna/pseuds/Millyna
Summary: Generations after the caste system disappeared, Illéa now is under democratic rule. But the peace is disturbed by the rise of the terrorist group 'The Red Herring', and as solution, prime minister Greene proposes for Crown Prince Michael to hold a Selection. With the support of the King and the parliament, Michael is forced to agree. Family problems aside. [SYOC Open]





	1. Dire Moods

**The Red Herring**

It was just another day, Michael thought when he was glaring towards the blue sky above Angeles. The crown prince stood in the gardens nearby the lake, glazing at the water with empty eyes. It was just another day, he reminded himself. Except that everything was different.

 “Your Highness.” Sam stepped by his side.  
 “Don’t call me that, Sam.”  
 “But it _is_ your title, Mike.”  
 “Details.” Michael shrugged.  
 “Is it the news that broke through today or the old story that is making you glare here in melancholy.”  
 “What news?” The blonde looked up to his friend.  
 “You did not hear yet?”  
 “No, of course not, so tell me.”

Samuel Jones, his best friend, sighed and glazed over to the swans too. He clearly did not want to be the bearer of the news he was about to break to him. But as the crown prince’s closest friend, Greene had sent him.

 “The info leaked.”  
 “That is just as helpful as saying “the news that broke today”, Sam.” Michael remarked annoyed.  
 “About the Selection, duh.”  
Michael glared to him, and sighed. “You are kidding me.”  
 “No, I am not.”  
 “Terrible enough that father agreed to the ‘Bachelor ft. Illéan crown’. Now the press got the info before the official point and me? I get to deal with the journalists.” He complained.  
 “You did agree terribly fast though.”  
 “Greene and father were discussing making it law. That the consort has to be selected by a Selection. I had no choice.”  
 “I googled a bit.” Sam added. “Apparently Queen Eadlyn wasn’t a great fan of the idea either, and she ended up happy.”  
 “How do you end up happy if you’re nothing but a celebrity because you’re someone’s kid?”  
 “Ask your dad?”  
 “His wife died two months ago.”

Yes, Queen Charlotte passed away only two months ago. Just like so many other people. Michael had visited the flowers in front of the parliament. The photos of the innocent people who passed away in a terrible terrorist attack, they had brought tears to his eyes.

Roses – white like the innocence, the queen had symbolised. Beloved by the people, admired by the court and his mother. He had been there, almost by her side. She had seen how she, the Queen of Illéa – married to a man whose ancestors once had ruled the people in terrible ways – had thrown herself in front of the prime minister, to protect the man elected by the people to rule the country. A sacrifice without any meaning for he died too.

 “Exactly. It has been two months, and you are still in mourning.”  
 “My mother died!” Michael cried out.  
 “Yes, and your country is scared and afraid of these terrorists.”  
 “What am _I_ meant to do?” The crown prince called.  
 “Encourage them, like your mother did.”  
 “They want Emmy on the throne either way – why bother?”

Silence. Yes, certainly, the people wanted to see his younger sister on the throne. Princess Emilia was so much more liked by the people of Illéa. The beautiful, intelligent, loving angel of a princess was so much more liked compared to her brother who nearly failed a school grade and preferred to hang around with his friends and discuss sport. Too bad she was in a coma since the terrorist attack at the opening of parliament. Too bad he wasn’t a fairy tale prince. He wasn’t the kind of dream fantasy, the people wanted to see from the monarchy.

But right now, it was more of a tragedy either way.

 “So, father sent you to tell me to prepare for the reporters?” Michael switched back to the Selection.  
 “Greene did, actually.”  
 “Sounds like him. Too afraid to do anything.”  
 “He wasn’t elected by the people and he stands in the steps of Stark.”

John Greene was Alexander Stark’s successor, the current prime minister of Illéa. People didn’t like him as much as Stark – he had been beloved for saving Illéa from an economic crisis after the Germans increased the prices of their exports – exports that were necessary for Illéa. And he was Sam’s uncle.

 “The Germans toy with us, still.” Sam remarked.  
 “I don’t care about politics.”  
 “If you did, people’d like you more.”  
 “People tell me not to have political opinions.”  
 “It is a small difference. Do not care but do care.” Sam added.  
 “You have no idea about my life.” Michael shook his head.  
 “Oh, I do. I do. You’ve been crying about it for years, Mike.” Sam laughed.  
 “Goddamn line of succession.”

Michael kneed down and gently pet his dog who was lazily lying by his feet. Samuel had a point. He had been his best friend for years, and he always listened when he complained about his life.

 “Your Highness. Mr. Jones.” A butler of the palace stood behind them, causing the two friends to turn around. “His Majesty requires your presence, Your Highness.”

Michael nodded, dismissed the butler and briefly bid his friend good-bye. Summer holidays wouldn’t last forever, and soon, he’d be back studying at university. One of the things, the prince could have had – if it wasn’t for his terrible school results. He, alongside his dog, a German Sheppard named Rock, left for his father’s office.

King Richard II was glaring at the fire in his office when Michael entered and briefly bowed. Wordless, he waved him to come closer. Richard was a good man and a good king, but nothing special, as Samuel tended to describe him. Just an avid fan of football, but otherwise? A private man, committed to his duties and family. Unfortunately, Michael wasn’t a fan of competitive sports at all, and the two were certainly not very close. There were days when they didn’t even talk.

 “You wished to speak with me, father?”  
 “Yes, yes. Did Samuel tell you?”  
 “About the leak? Yes. How did it happen though?”  
 “God knows, I don’t care much either.” Richard waved it off. “The official press release was published this afternoon. Can’t have rumours flooding around.”  
 “Yes, father.”  
 “I decided to discuss this in person with you, rather than have you talk to the people who are actually having more of an idea of this, because I know that you are not too happy about this.”  
 “Surprise, surprise.”  
 “There are thirty-five girls, Michael. One of them has to be good enough.”  
Michael shrugged as response.  
 “Tomorrow, you will hold a press conference.” Richard added. “Better start preparing. Silvestre is here to discuss further things with you.”  
 “Alright, father.”  
 “And, Michael?”  
 “Hm?”  
“Thirty-five girls who just want their fairy tale. You’ll have fun.”

Both of them shared a brief but awkward laugh. Michael knew that his father disliked Michael’s love for night life. Richard knew that Michael did not want to be king and wanted no queen.

Silvestre Lorde was in charge of the press of the palace and the royal family, and a good friend of his mother. After briefing him about the nature of the leak itself and the information (pretty much everything) and further information he might need, it was question time. He only had two.  
 “What if they ask about mother, or Emmy?” They absolutely would.  
 “Don’t comment anything.”  
 “What if they ask about the Red Herring?” The terrorists who had planted a bomb and taken his mother. Among other crimes and attacks.  
 “Don’t comment anything.”  
 “Just another press conference, then?”  
 “Exactly, your highness.”

Welcome to “The Red Herring”!

This is a SYOC The Selection fanfiction, meaning that I depend on you to send me the Selected to appear in the story. As you might guessed, this is set in the future, and Illéa has pretty much turned into how Britain is today, with a bit of American influence due to the location.

You will most likely notice one or two differences – i.e. I refer to Michael as Crown Prince Michael of Illéa rather than Prince Michael Schreave because that is more correct – royals don’t tend to use surnames at all. I was going to use HRH (His/Her Royal Highness) instead of HH (His/Her Highness), but because HH is shorter to type and canon, I am going to go with this – even though it’s ‘lesser’ than HRH.

Illéa is a constitutional monarchy in which the King doesn’t hold any real power. The technological and social standards are comparable to today’s society, but that doesn’t mean that the caste system hasn’t left traces. Even though we might deny it, we still do have classes in today’s society, and so does this fanfiction. I hope to receive characters from all kinds of classes.

The story’s plot has been planned in the basics, but it will depend a lot on your characters. I plan to focus onto them and give each ‘major character’ a plot arc, but there’s no way I can develop up to 35 characters + characters from my side. I do not guarantee you that I’ll take your character or that they will become a major character.

Please give your best when filling the form!

This fanfiction will be published on Wattpad, AO3 and fanfiction.net as well as possibly other plattforms, and by sending me a character, you allow me to use and change it in any way I want. If you need to, send the information to whiteghost0048@gmail.com

I am asking you to send an original character that has not been send to any other story to avoid ‘copyright’ (as much as that can happen in fanfictions) conflicts.

Please erase the brackets.

 **Taken Provinces:** None. T_T

**Required Information**

Given name:  
Family name:  
Nickname: [Optional]  
Titles: [Optional]  
Age: [18 – 22. Has to have completed school]  
  
Home province: [please take a look at the provinces that are taken!]  
Birthdate:  
Blood type:  
Health: [any noticeable physical or mental illnesses and medical history]  
  
Social background: [class, family, economical status, social status, reputation, past changes, …]  
Family history: [noticeable history in family, moves, marriages, affairs, divorces, …]  
Personal history: [anything goes]  
Immediate family: [relationship, names, vague age, occupation, noticeable points]  
Other noticeable relations: [Optional. Relationship, names, vague age, occupation, noticeable points]  
  
What feelings does your character have about the family? >>  
What feelings does your character have about the background? >>  
What would your character want to change? >>

Appearance:  
Reference person: [Optional. Note a person of whom I can find > 3 images who looks similar like your character.]  
Style:  
Stature:  
  
How much time does your character spend on their appearance? >>  
How much energy does your character put into their appearance? >>  
What kind of first impression do they leave? >>

Education: [What kind of school did they attend? Do they have a university degree? Did they attend public or private school?  …]  
Opinions: [What do they think of their education?]  
Intentions: [Do they want to attend university? What do they want to study? Do they want to start job training?]  
Employment history:

Skills:  
Interests:  
Hobbies:

Personality:  
Worries:  
Wishes:  
Fears:

What kind of goals do they have? >>  
What is the best thing that could happen to them? >>  
What is the worst thing that could happen to them? >>

  
Political position:  
Gender:  
Sexuality:  
Political opinions:  
Opinions on history:  
Opinions on foreign countries:

Do they want Illéa to become a republic? >>  
What do they think of The Red Herring? >>  
What do they think of the Selection? >>

Early bird or night owl? >>  
Cats or dogs? >>  
Baseball or soccer? >>  
Truth or dare? >>>  
Science or art? >>>

**Characters**

King Richard II of Illéa  
The current sovereign of Illéa who has been ruling for thirty years. He is liked by the people, but was surpassed by his daughter, Emilia. An earnest and serious man with a passion for soccer, Richard is intelligent and a good figure head for the country. He has never done anything ‘out of the line’ in his life, and going by Michael, has lead a very boring life.

 

Queen Charlotte of Illéa  
The late queen of Illéa who was beloved and admired by her people for her open, positive personality and love for animals which she passed to her oldest son. Charlotte was fifty-four when she passed away – too young in the opinion of the nation. She was an active advocate for education and feminism. While she had opponents, they too mourn her death.

  
Crown Prince Michael of Illéa  
Twenty in the beginning of the plot. The heir apparent to the throne of Illéa who, due to his “I don’t care” attitude grew disliked by the nation during his teenage years. He once almost had to repeat a grade, and only managed to pass with the help of his sister. He likes being outside with his trusted  dogs and move.

 

Princess Emilia of Illéa.  
Eighteen. The beloved darling of a whole nation. Emilia is aware of social issues and actively uses her position to fight them. Fluent in many languages, she is considered as a very intelligent woman and a role model to many. Many people want to see Emily as heir apparent rather than her brother. She currently is in a coma.

 

Simon Jones.  
Twenty and Michael’s best friend. A sport-interested man, he is usually seen with Michael. He is the nephew of the late prime minister Stark. He is interested in various kinds of sport and currently studies sport science at the Angeles University.

 

Prime Minister John Green.  
The current leader of Illéa who got the position after his predecessor died on May 1st. He isn’t liked by the people as much as his predecessor but he succeeded in calming down the people with the Selection. Michael can’t stand him, but Richard and John get along well – unfortunately that also means that he’s gotta deal with him a lot.

 

Silvestre Lorde.  
Silvestre was Queen Charlotte’s closest friend and in charge of the palace’s press handling. Silvestre is a effective woman, but has been hit hard by what has happened.


	2. Good Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole story can be found here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13060359/1/The-Red-Herring

**2**

**Good Time**

It was a nice day – certainly. The sun was shining, the sky was clear of any clouds, it was warm, midsummer and what not. Rock would certainly not mind going out, Michael thought when the car he sat in came to stop. The black-coloured windows (black-coloured windows somehow were a thing? Apparently since years too? _How?_ ) hid him from the public eye – fortunately. Quite a few people he knew would kill him if they saw his choice of clothing (t-shirt, jeans, trainers, sunglasses – apparently not ‘adequate’ for a crown prince). When the chauffeur opened his door, he slipped out of the car quickly.

 “This way, sir.”  
No need the formality or explanation; this wasn’t the first time for him to be here. For way too many reasons, Michael did not like the place – he despised hospitals in general – but he (tried to, at least) kept a cool face.

Michael also ignored the note of where to go. This _still_ wasn’t the first time for him to be here, the heir apparent wanted to tell the nurse, but he refrained from it. He wasn’t _that_ stupid. Not even twenty-four hours since the ‘news broke’ (aka someone leaked the plans of the Selection) and he already had stopped looking at his phone’s newsfeed. He wasn’t particularly interested in vanity magazines and the boulevard press discussing his marriage.

He was twenty years old, for God’s sake. People didn’t marry with twenty anymore!

Not that they cared, apparently. Just like that nurse who had given him the hospital’s visitor’s pass and giggled with her co-worker afterwards. Frustration. Yes, Michael was frustrated. Twenty years, and he should have gotten over it, but nah – he was still complaining.

 “Remind me again, why are you stalking me?”  
Silvestre had been by his side since he had left the palace in the morning. He certainly didn’t need a babysitter, but if the press caught him, he wouldn’t mind being able to push them at her rather than dealing with reporters on his own.

 “I am not stalking you, your highness.”  
 “Drop the formality, Silvestre. You’re like, literally, my godmother.”  
 “Yes, I know, Michael.”  
 “Thanks.”  
 “No problem.” Silvestre paused. “But, to answer, because Emilia is almost a daughter to me. I am worried too.”  
 “I get why you’re in the hospital, yeah, but why stalk me the rest of the way?”  
Silvestre chuckled. “We both know you’re terrible with the press.”  
 “… Point.”

Emilia’s hospital bedroom was filled with sunlight. The curtains were open and one window was too. Summer air filled the room. Emilia’d love this, Michael though. Said eighteen years old blonde however did not take much notice. Just like the last time, he had been here, Emilia was sleeping.

Or at least it looked like she was.

 “Hey ya’.” Rihanna turned around. The blonde – who looked almost like Emilia if it wasn’t for the features, Emmy had inherited from their father – turned around.   
 “Anything new?”  
Rihanna shook her head slowly. “Unfortunately, not, no.”

Silvestre briefly hugged her daughter while Michael kept staring at his sister. Stupid, he thought. That he, Sam and Rihanna often ended up here, visiting her, even though she didn’t know that they were here. Rihanna, Emmy’s best friend, was here even more often than he, her brother, was. Yes, she worked on the other side of the street in a mall and wasn’t working as royal, but it made him feel guilty.

 “They say that comatose people can hear you, you know.” Silvestre added.  
 “They also say that it’ll be nice weather if you eat up your plate.” Michael retorted.  
 “I read about that too though.” Rihanna remarked. “By the way, Mike, how’s the Selection going?” From sad and down, Rihanna’s voice came back to a typical friendly teasing.  
 “Good, and your’s?” He retorted again.  
 “Ah, I can’t decide how many to take. Already got some applications?”  
 “Officially, it’s not even announced, duh.”  
 “Have you seen mum’s workload?”  
 “Yes.” Silvestre laughed. “My phone was ringing the whole afternoon yesterday.”  
 “No, and I don’t really care. She’s being paid to do that, you know.”  
 “Sovereign grant?” Rihanna laughed. “You’re being paid too!”  
 “Better than a part-time shop clerk.”  
 “I just haven’t decided what to do with my life!” Rihanna defended herself laughing.

A stupid, reasonless but funny ‘fight’ between friends. That was new. Maybe Rihanna, Samuel and Michael should hang out again. Once Emmy was fine, she could join them too. Emmy had to be fine again.

 “But, hey, mum? Can you pull some strings so I get in?”  
Silvestre was visibly surprised. “Pardon me? Rihanna?”  
 “That is an interesting way of confession your love for me, Rihanna…?” Michael, equally confused, spoke slowly.  
 “Dude, no!” Rihanna laughed out. “You’re not my type. Sam’s closer, and he looks better.”  
 “Thanks, you too.”  
 “I just want in for the bitch fights. I mean, hello?” She jokily pointed to herself. “I have insider knowledge!”

Silvestre was, nonetheless, against it. “No, Rihanna you will not apply.”  
 “Why not?” Rihanna shrugged. “It’s just for fun, mum.”  
 “It’s… wrong. You and Michael are childhood friends!”  
 “Last time I checked, that’s not a no-no to hang out with some wanna be princesses.”  
 “Yes, but-“  
 “You know, Rihanna?” Michael interrupted Silvestre. “You’re in.”  
 “Wait, what?” Rihanna laughed. Silvestre was negatively surprised.  
 “Do _you_ have a crush on me?” Rihanna challenged him.  
 “No, but that’s one less name to learn, one less girl to pretend to care about, and I’m sure,” He turned to Silvestre. “Your mum could sell that as a sweet love story for the moment so I get rid of reporters claiming I just want to sleep with thirty-five girls.”  
 “You are a virgin!”  
 “Hey, I’m not! But going by the press?” He laughed out. “Going by them, there are forty women and two guys who claim I slept with them, four that claim I assaulted them and two who claim I raped them.”  
 “Which are false.” Silvestre nodded – more wanting to convince herself.  
 “You’ve never even had a girlfriend.” Rihanna added. “I got best sources.”  
 “You don’t say.” Michael sighed. “But, either way, Silvestre – _please_ make it happen. Sam has lectures to attend, and I won’t go through this sane otherwise. It’s not like Rihanna and I will end up together.”  
 “Exactly!”

***

It took more than just “Please?” to convince Silvestre of letting that happen, but eventually, she gave in. Rihanna was going to be in, no matter what. Poor Angeles girls, Michael had joked. Rihanna had retorted that they could always try their luck when they were partying.

It was funny that Rihanna was fine with clubbing even though her best friend (on whose side she usually was!) always warned them about the dangers. But well, now, Rihanna’d have to survive until Michael’d find a way out. Maybe the government (or whoever was in charge) would end up finding and arresting The Red Herring and he could end the whole thing with the statement that “I just didn’t find the right one.” – no one’d expect him to find the love of his life in thirty-five girls, right?

Nonetheless, the afternoon came – and with that the press conference, Silvestre had warned him about yesterday evening. He had successfully missed a meeting about the criteria of the Selected, but he didn’t really care either.

What he did care about was getting this press conference behind him. It was stupid alone.

 “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.” He spoke, in a “I care” voice towards the journalists that had been assembled in one of the uncountable rooms of the royal palace. He was already getting off script. Great. What was he meant to start with again?

Screw it. Screw this goddamn thing.

 “As you might now, because some dude took the surprise moment from me, I – Crown Prince Michael of Illéa – am going to hold a Selection. For these who slept through history like I did and missed the little remark; that means that a young woman aged eighteen to twenty-two from every province will be selected, provided that she finished school and has applied, to come here, to the royal palace in Angeles. I am meant to find a wife through this, and I am going to leave it to fate – I honestly don’t want to think about the aspect of having thirty-five guests whose name I gotta learn. The application form will be released online tomorrow morning at nine o’clock, and a duration of three weeks will stand to allow applications.” Yeah, apparently, people thought it was a nice idea to rush it. He added further information he could remember, but presumably missed half of it. Michael hated press conferences. He grew annoyed, wanting to finish this thing.

Eventually, he did get over it, and passed Silvestre and his father who were standing in the hallway – presumably previous talking.

 “That was,” Silvestre started.  
 “Terrible. I know..”   
 “Michael.” Richard sighed. “I just want the best for you and the country. You could simply embrace this chance to meet friendly and nice young ladies, son.”   
 “The country?” Michael asked annoyed. “They’d be better off if I locked myself in a closet.”

***

This wasn’t the first time that more people were crammed into the student flat, Sam lived in. All of the them were pretty sure that the landlord had lied about the size, but never come to checking the actual size.

Rihanna had occupied the couch, Sam the floor and Michael a floor – four weeks after the Selection was announced. Four weeks in which practically nothing had changed, except that Samuel was studying heaps again and Rihanna had ended her job.

 “When’s the announcement of the Selected?” Sam looked up from his pile of folders.  
 “Tomorrow.” Rihanna answered. “Mum’s doing it after Mike screwed up the last press conference.  
 “Thanks for the confidence.”  
 “I have yours here, Rihanna.” Sam waved one of the folders – filled with information on the Selected. “Miss Rihanna Lorde. Nineteen years old. Saint J. Hunton-Vanderbilt Academy graduate,  employed as part-time shop clerk.”  
 “Wrong.” Rihanna called out.  
 “This information was made four weeks ago though.” Michael remarked before open his can of beer and taking a sip.  
 “Average student, no future plans known. A few cases of driving too fast. Hobbies are art and movies.”  
 “I thought we knew each other longer than five minutes?” Rihanna joked. “Why do you need to read my file?”  
 “I’ve read all. You got a whole rainbow of options here, Mike.”  
 “Great, and I don’t care.”  
 “Damn, I couldn’t think straight if I had a thirty-five girls in my house.” Rihanna laughed.  
 “You are living in a penthouse. I’d be worried about the floor breaking if that happened.” Mike complained.   
 “But, seriously, besides Rihanna – the group isn’t random, is it? I can see multiple themes.”  
 “There are criteria, yeah. I didn’t read them though.”  
 “Or attend the meetings.” Rihanna added.  
 “Shut it.”  
 “No, thanks.”  
 “But why? I mean, they don’t seriously expect you to marry one of these, do they?”  
 “God knows what goes on in Greene’s head.” Michael shrugged. “Apparently, we need money to handle the German federation’s new export policies, and to work out the Red Herring situation, and somehow… these girls are going to help with that?”  
 “Most of them don’t seem poor.”   
 “Greene does expect you to marry someone.” Rihanna clarified. “I mean, how else would the Selection help? Sure, the advertisement’s gonna bring money in, but otherwise? That’s heaps of money.”  
 “What’s up with the Herring guys though? Online info is pretty much nothing.” Sam remarked. “They did attack some hospital somewhere, I heard. But that’s the only thing I know.”  
 “No one tells me something.” Michael took another slip. “Hey, Sam, how do you make girls fall for you?”  
 “Half of the university has a crush on you.” Rihanna added. “How.”  
 “You know, the reason I’m so beautiful is that I live in a glorified closet.” Sam casually pointed to his small living space.  
 “So, basically, you don’t have any tips.”  
 “Yeah.” Sam shrugged. “I dunno what these girls want from me. But, seriously, why do you suddenly care about what they think of you?”  
 “Gotta play my role or I get in trouble.”  
 “With whom?”  
 “Greene. ‘Just do your job, boy.’ – he says that every time we meet.”  
 “I don’t like Greene.” Sam stated.  
 “Who does?” Michael shrugged. “I feel like he’s just as disliked as the whole country.”  
 “Hey, it’s not Emmy’s fault.”

He knew what Rihanna was referring to. The fact that the whole country preferred Miss Perfect, Princess Emilia. He knew that she was referring to the time where there had been a rivalry between them. She didn’t know what else she was referring to.

 “Hey, Sam? Wanna stay the night over and try help me with learning these girls’ names?”  
 “Now he suddenly cares.” Rihanna laughed. “Power of the boner.”  
It took Sam more time to realise what was going on. “Yeah, sure.”

 

***

**Author’s Note**

It’s been a while since I last worked with Fanfiction.net and Genius!Me forgot how to edit chapters. Yay. That’s going to be fun.

Few notices:

Samuel Jones (name wrongly states, oops – I messed up) is doing a Bachelor of Health in Psychology for story purposes. There is a link to a Google Slides file on my profile that will lead you to the information about the main characters, including images. I’ve written a bit about the Selected, but feel free to message me if you would like anything to be changed.

In other news, Paloma, Honduras, Dominica and Angeles are taken. I have two further Selected whose province doesn’t matter and will be decided once I close the SYOC (which will presumably happen once I upload chapter three?).

Also, here’s me quietly hoping that I got through that Michael is emotionally struggling with stuff.


End file.
